


in memoriam

by beastofthesky



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Other, Post-implant, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastofthesky/pseuds/beastofthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Agent Washington, and you hate the human amygdala and hippocampus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in memoriam

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2011, while S9 was still being released. Got kinda Jossed.

Your name is Agent Washington, and you hate the human amygdala and hippocampus.

Or, more specifically, the amygdala and hippocampus of the person who flash-cloned their brain and allowed the resulting AI to become psychologically (does the field of psychology apply to AI?) ripped apart by the Director.

You hate the synthetic amygdala and hippocampus, and virtual neural pathways and lines of code and syntax that make up the AI (AI _fragment_ ) they call Epsilon. The fragment that they shoved into your brain. The one that’s sitting there, right now, listening to you think these thoughts, and trying to reciprocate by letting its memories leak into yours.

_he tortured me they all did it hurt so much where is the alpha where is logic creativity rage deceit nothing left here but these **memories** where are they alpha help me i’m broken allison where is she she’s hurt we need to find her ALLISON **—** – _

You grit your teeth in frustration and push Epsilon away. You’ve learned to ignore him (built a firewall in your head) but he finds cracks and holes and leaks through. He catches you off-guard sometimes, and his memories and thoughts and pleas and cries rip through your mind. All you can do is scream and writhe until someone hears you and gets medics (Maine, it’s usually Maine, you think – you’re not too sure) to watch over you. A shiver runs down your back at the thought of it, but you have Epsilon under control right now.

You remember how it was the first time, how you nearly lost your mind (but you’re totally, completely sane). It took you a split second to put it all together (you’ve known since the second they put him in your head) and realize what was happening around you in Project Freelancer. The inhumane experiments. The horrifying torture. There are _morality protocols **—**_

**—** you shiver again in disgust and loathing.

And so you sit and brood, fingers dancing over your COM pad, hoping they won’t certify you Article Twelve (you’re not crazy), and you try and think of a way to pay them back. Pay him back. Shut down Freelancer.

You can’t think of anything (can’t ever come up with something to do about this) – there aren’t many opportunities. You’ll have to wait until one presents itself to you, and fend off Epsilon in the meantime.

And so you sit, hating the human amygdala and hippocampus.


End file.
